


Picking Up The Pieces

by Ndeplume



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Mortal, Angst, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Indentured Servitude/Slavery, M/M, Mixed Martial Arts, No Smut, Post-Apocalypse, Street fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ndeplume/pseuds/Ndeplume
Summary: In 2309, the world ended. In 2371, the descendants of the survivors built it back up. Some city centers remained the central powers of this new world but it was no secret that the Underworld ruled everything. A network of seedy criminal empires popped up and wrested control of the new city centers. Nicolo was born into this world and thought he was prepared to face anything it could throw at him. Propelled by a strong sense of morality, he had once been moved by ambitious dreams. But now, forced to work as a prize-fighter under contract to one of the leaders of the London Underworld, his ability to think about ‘what could be’ was extinguished. One Yusuf Al-Kaysani changed his perception very quickly.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	1. Another Day Done

**Author's Note:**

> This Universe is a little dark and there will be mature themes throughout since the premise is that the world has 'ended' and syndicates have taken over. There is a portion of regular society beginning to form again but everybody knows the various criminal organizations run everything, including the justice system. Nicky, Joe, Andy, Nile, and Booker all 'chose' to enter into contracts to fight in UFC-style boxing/mixed martial arts events for a period of time, the contracts can be traded and victims are at the whims of those with whom they are contracted - this is a form of slavery called indentured servitude (hence the Mature rating) - and the premise of this world is based on Fallout 4, specifically Cait's character.
> 
> I'll add tags/warnings as they come up. Please heed them!
> 
> I know I have other works to update but then Conor McGregor lost and I've been thinking about Fallout 4 lately and all bets were off, sorry folks. Anyways we'll see how this goes! Hope you enjoy!

Nicky swore to himself as he stumbled over his feet. His chest hurt, his head hurt, everything felt dull and fuzzy and it was harder than normal to put one foot in front of the other. Tonight’s fight had been bad. He’d been the underdog (he always was) and his opponent, Sebastien, had a lot riding on tonight’s fight. Nicky did too, such was the nature of their employment, but he just hadn’t felt the fire underneath him like Sebastien tonight. 

He understood. Of course he understood. The fighters were desperate and their contracts were strict, Booker had children at home, Nicky didn’t feel too bad to have lost. Of course, his employer was very unhappy. Keane had dragged Nicky out of the ring and shouted at him in the changing room for a solid twenty minutes before he’d allowed the doctor to see to his wounds. It had been a long night. 

Nicky groaned as he heard his phone notification, the sudden beep aggravating a growing headache. Booker had given him a good shoulder hit to the head and swift fist to the jaw which stunned him. After two five minute rounds, the stunning blows and his already weak legs proved too much and Nicky faltered, falling to the ground. Seeing his chance, Sebastien pounced and began a pummeling which was so fast and powerful, all his opponent could do was hope to avoid as many hits as possible. The match had been over seconds later when the referee tore him off of Nicky’s bruised body. He’d fallen unconscious a mere second later. The memory itself was painful. 

Nicky checked his phone, smiling faintly when he saw Sebastien’s number. 

You fought well tonight. Hope you’re feeling okay, I know I got a bit intense at the end. Tough night. Needed this win. Text me when you’re feeling okay. SL

He typed a brief reply, the maximum his foggy head could handle. 

A well deserved win, Booker. Good fight, as always. I’m okay, just foggy. Text tomorrow. NG

Glad you’re alright. Let me know if you need anything. SL

Nicky tossed his phone on the counter and fumbled for a glass of water and two pills out of the massive jar of painkillers on the counter. The fighter fished a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and made a beeline for the bathroom to take out the first aid kit. His ear had already tripled in size and he knew his jaw had a sizable welt. He didn’t need to look in a mirror to tell that his eye was black and blue and that his split lip was swollen. Thankfully the Vaseline the referee had rubbed on the fighters’ faces before the match ensured that his features weren’t cut or too badly damaged. Keane would have been much more furious if Nicky had faced any permanent scarring or damage to his features. 

With steady, practiced hands, Nicky took care of the injuries the doctor hadn’t touched. Over the years, it had become routine. Train, fight, painkillers, ice, bed, repeat. The harsh realities of the Underworld Nicolo belonged to were inescapable, particularly for somebody in his precarious position. 

It was well known that London was run by a handful of people. Keane, Nicky’s “manager”, was one of them. He ran a notorious gang which controlled much of the Underworld entertainment industry in the shadows of the city. Nicky had lived his life parallel to this world until six years ago. His fiancé at the time had been involved in an illegal smuggling business run by Steven Merrick, one of the other rulers of the Underworld. His empire primarily lay in the movement and sale of drugs and ‘pharmaceuticals.’ The unsavoury nature of the business had always turned Nicolo off yet he’d had no choice but to accept it due to his impending marriage. That ended when Nicky saw his chance to escape. 

His husband-to-be was a cruel man and had always taken his frustrations out on those around him. One night, Nicky found the courage to strike back. They’d been in public when it happened and the word spread very quickly. Footage of him ducking his fiancé’s slap and sending an elbow to his face, immediately knocking him out, made its way to Keane and within the three hours after the fight, Nicky had been sent an offer. 

He was facing charges. Merrick had been extremely unhappy that Nicky had shown up one of his men so easily and had pulled strings to get the justice department to come down hard on the would-be betrayer. The footage was edited, witnesses paid off, and a story about Nicolo di Genova and his wild drunken rampage would make headlines the next morning. To Nicky, the choice was obvious. He could stay where he was and almost certainly end up in jail, or he could accept the contract Keane sent him and join the Underworld street fighting league for fifteen years to earn his freedom. The implication ‘if you survive that long’ went unsaid.

Nicky wasn’t naïve. He knew full well that fighting meant entertainment and entertainment was a very broad category of employment, most of which he’d be forced to participate in. But it was preferable to rotting in a cell and, at the very least, he had the chance to earn his freedom after his time was up. He’d be entitled to a small stipend, a one-bedroom unit, a (monitored) cell phone, and one day of free time every fortnight. Every other day he would train up to 16 hours. His diet, his activity, his communication, his movement was all monitored. Nicolo wasn’t allowed to leave the compound unless authorized and under heavy supervision. His other entertainment duties were off compound, as were his fights, but those ended up being the only times he left. Needless to say, if he refused an entertainment event, lost a fight, or underperformed, there were consequences.

He wasn’t alone, though. There were twenty or thirty other fighters living in the compound. Each one was there by contract and each of them ‘belonged’ to a manager. Sebastien, “the Librarian” as he was nicknamed, belonged to a woman named Kozak. He lived with his three young children down the hall from Nicky. Sebastien was kept on a tight leash. Kozak was notoriously cruel. While Sebastien’s children had never been harmed, Kozak took advantage of their existence to “entice” their father. If Sebastien didn’t win by a certain number of points, she simply wouldn’t provide enough food for him and the kids and consequently, Sebastien would go hungry. If he lost a fight, she would send the kids to a daycare elsewhere and he’d have to win fights or perform favours to earn back the right to see them. 

Kozak was sick, her actions were reprehensible even by Underworld standards. But she was in charge and they had no choice but to obey. Nicky couldn’t begrudge Sebastien for fighting extra hard tonight. He knew the children were away. As he closed up the first aid kit, he could hear them chattering excitedly as they were led back down the hallway to see their father for the first time in days. Nicolo smiled to himself as he heard them. Knowing that in some small way he had helped reunite them with their father justified the deep ache he felt in his bones. He settled down on the small bed in the corner and let out a slow breath he’d been holding. Another day over.


	2. The Newcomer

Unsurprisingly, the painkillers Nicky had taken the evening before wore off during the night and didn’t help at all in the morning. Waking up was a painful event. He’d fallen asleep with his face pressed to the bag of peas and while the swelling had gone down, the soreness made up for the discomfort. Not to mention, the peas had thawed overnight and as Nicky moved, they squelched uncomfortably under his cheek. He wrinkled his nose and made a gagging noise as he tossed the offending bag aside and burrowed back under the covers, face hidden by his arm and the hood of his sweatshirt. 

God. He was sore. 

He was about to fall back asleep when his phone buzzed and he realized what had woken him up. Pawing at it, Nicky grumbled to himself as he checked the messages. 

You were right, the new one’s here today. He’s getting checked in now, he’s in the room next to yours. Guess they cleared out Lykon’s stuff pretty quick. NF

Nile. She was the newest of them all, she’d arrived at the compound only six months ago and had quickly proven herself to be a force nobody wanted to reckon with. Her contract was with Keane as well, Nicky had been told to help train her but had found that her natural abilities and instincts complemented the skills she already had. As a result, Nile ended up teaching him a few things. Rumour had it that Keane was scared of her skill, though he never acted like it. They said the same thing about Andromache and Meta, but nobody believed it. This place was like a rumour mill on steroids since the only thing anybody had to do besides train was gossip. Seemed like it was already starting, since Nile’s next text came quickly. 

Dibs, by the way. He’s hot. NF  
Unless he swings your way, in which case, you should go for it. He’s really hot. I bet he’s got some cool mysterious past too. He’s got cool tattoos and a ton of scars. NF

Nicky smiled faintly. Everyone here was attractive and intimidating. They had all experienced some sort of trauma to get here and most of them continued to experience some while they were here so many people turned to promiscuity as an easy release that kept them in fighting shape. He typed back a quick reply. 

He’s probably exhausted. I’ll let him settle, then I’ll bring him coffee or something to ice break. NG

English was relatively new to him and his head still felt foggy so he didn’t bother trying to think of the correct way to use the idioms. 

Fair enough. I’m helping him to his room and giving him the tour, apparently. Lucky me! NF  
You’re right, he looks tired. Sounds like he went through a lot to get here. He’s from a place I’ve never even heard of before. Apparently his contract was transferred to Merick. NF

Merrick’s name sent a chill down Nicky’s spine. None of the Underworld managers were particularly pleasant but Merrick was one of the worst. While engaged to his ex-fiance, Nicky had never had close contact with the man but had heard many stories about his cruelty, his reach, his immorality. His ex-fiance held Merrick on a pedestal, he idolized the psychopath. Nicky was terrified of him. He’d only ever seen him in person twice, once at a large social function where he’d been entertaining along with other fighters, and once at a small private gathering. Merrick had demanded a dance from him. Nicky could still feel the way his gaze felt, his unsteady demeanour, his intense and furious eyes. He felt sorry for the new one, whoever he was. As much as he hated Keane, he couldn’t imagine having to answer to Merrick for longer than a night. 

Tell him my door’s always open if he needs for something. We take care of each other here. NG

Will do, Nicky :) Feel better, yeah? Book said you had a bit of a rough one last night. Get some rest. NF

Nicky thanked Nile for her concern and put his phone aside, collapsing back onto the mattress with a groan. He fell back asleep a few minutes later. 

An hour passed before he woke again, this time to a rapping on his door and the sound of it opening. There were no locks here, yet another reminder of their limited freedom. Nicky lifted his head from the pillow and glanced over his shoulder to see who it was. 

Nile had walked in with the most handsome man he’d ever seen. Nicky’s heart thudded in his chest as he stared. He must be a god. Or perhaps he was a model, perhaps he was a robot. There was talk of robots and inhuman experiments, maybe this was one of them. There was no way a mere mortal could be that perfect. Everything about him brought Nicolo to his knees. Even his scars seemed nearly manufactured. 

Nile’s face was split into a mischevous grin. She winked at Nicky which brought him back to the present. Quickly, he scrambled out of bed and stood up. In his rush to seem like a functioning person, his foot caught on the mess of sheets and his momentum propelled him towards the floor. If not for a pair of capable, strong hands, Nicky would have re-broken his nose for sure. 

The warmth emanating from Joe’s calloused hands was unbelievable. Nicky felt it travel from his chest up his shoulders, down his back, to his face and finally land in his heart. The Italian’s face reddened as he stared up at Joe, who helped him to his feet with a grace and gentleness that didn’t seem possible coming from a man of such stature. 

“Are you okay?” Came a deep voice tinged with a sincere concern that hadn’t been directed at Nicky in decades. He nodded mutely, looking around for something to cover himself with and finally settling on a nearby cardigan. He was only wearing a pair of jogging pants since he’d taken his shirt off to tend to his bruised chest the night before. Nicky felt naked under the perfect stranger’s warm gaze and the attention of those beautiful, sharp, shining brown eyes. 

“Nicolo.” Nicolo said all of a sudden, as if remembering that he had to participate in the interaction. How could he be expected to concentrate when he could feel the warmth of Joe’s hands on his chest still? How cruel that he was expected to speak when Joe’s gaze struck him mute with awe? Joe’s resulting smile sent a spark of joy up Nicky’s spine. 

“One step ahead of me. Nile said you were smart. It is very nice to meet you, Nicolo. My name is Yusuf. Joe.” The statuesque man said. Nicky’s heart thudded so loud he swore it must be jumping out of his chest like those antique cartoons. Joe reached out and Nicky automatically took his hand, shaking it firmly. 

“Very good to meet you. You are moving in across the hall?” Nicky asked, praying he could force his mind to snap out of its stupor and string together a coherent sentence. The longer he looked at Yusuf, the more he noticed. There was a quiet sadness behind his eyes, a weary drag to his shoulders which seemed to weigh him down. He had also clearly been awake for a long time. He really had just arrived, then. Yusuf’s nod and glance back at the door confirmed his suspicions. 

“I am. It looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Nile was kind enough to volunteer you to help me get settled.” Yusuf replied with a faint smile he directed at the young woman standing nearby. She just directed her response to Nicky and flashed a grin.

“He’s the best tour guide this place has ever seen!” She elated, tossing her hand in the air dramatically. 

“I would be happy to help where I can.” Nicky replied with a chuckle. “In fairness, there is hardly much to see. But I am happy to help.” He added, fighting to keep a blush from spreading too much. He was supposed to be a machine, after all. They all were. They had a singular purpose and that was to fulfill their contracts or did trying. Romantic entanglements were frowned upon and exploited...not that that helped anything. Nicky still felt absolutely dizzy in Yusuf’s presence. 

“Thank you, Nicolo. I look forward to it.” Yusuf replied. Nicky’s heart swelled as he heard his name on the man’s lips (oh, those lips) for a second time. He couldn’t help but smile and nod in agreement. 

“Nicky. Please, call me Nicky.” He stammered. 

“Alright Nicky. Please call me Joe.”


	3. The Healing Power of Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of these first chapters will be character exposition and exploring the environment. There isn't much explicit except references to the dark situation they're in and the society at large.   
> Thank you everyone for the comments, they seriously are always so appreciated!  
> Enjoy :)

It was impossible to go to bed after Yusuf and Nile left. To think that a man who looked like that was right across the hall? Nicky couldn’t focus. There was something about him that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Joe’s presence was magnetic but Nicky could tell there was something unsaid. None of them simply showed up here, they all had baggage and Nile seemed to think that Joe’s contract had been bought out which meant he'd likely been somewhere worse before he ended up here. Nicky idly wondered how long was left before Yusuf could be free. Selfishly, he hoped they’d have enough time to get to know each other a little bit. 

He hummed to himself as he put the coffee pot on, making enough for himself and for a mug to bring to the newcomer. Joe, he’d said to call him. Nicky tried the word out on his lips, mumbling his name a few times. Joe. Yusuf. Joseph. Joe. He couldn’t help but sigh, glancing out the small kitchen window, the only one in his one-bedroom apartment. A large crack ran through it but the window was Nicky’s favourite part of the room. It provided a tiny semblance of freedom that he fervently hoped one day to taste for real. 

As the coffee brewed, Nicky changed, showered, and checked on his injuries. They were already doing better than the night before. He’d have to go check on Booker and make sure he was okay too. Though Nicky had lost, he’d landed quite a few solid hits. At least his head was feeling better. If he’d had a concussion, it would be gone soon enough. What Nicolo really needed was a good cup of coffee. He poured the freshly brewed cure-all into his only two mugs and then walked across the hallway to knock on Joe’s door. He hesitated a moment first in case the man was sleeping, but he could hear the sound of movement on the other side. Nicky raised a hand and knocked, balancing two cups in one hand for a moment before he took them securely once more. 

Moments later, the stranger opened it. His smile when he greeted Nicolo was far warmer than he’d been expecting. Joe radiated warmth. 

“I know you may be tired if you were traveling all night so I thought I would bring you coffee. We have training in an hour or so and I assume you’ll be expected to join.” Nicky stammered his way through a complete sentence, much more coherent now that he was awake. Joe reached out and took the mug. Nicky noticed his scarred knuckles, they matched his own. 

“Thank you. I need caffeine so bad.” Yusuf practically moaned, taking a sip. His eyes fluttered closed as he breathed out. Nicky got the sense that he’d been through more than just a long night. Before Nicky could reply that it was no problem at all, Joe continued. “You don’t need to show me around, by the way. If you’d like to I’d love to get the tour but I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.” 

“No, no I’d be happy to. Really.” Came Nicky’s immediate reply. “Really. It’ll be nice. This place isn’t so bad. It could be worse, I’ll say. But it’s hard to get used to and even harder when you feel alone. So. I am here to help.” He assured with a nod, smiling faintly at Joe, who regarded him thoughtfully. 

“That’s a kind offer. I wouldn’t expect it of most people here.” Yusuf replied, gesturing vaguely around them. Nicky shrugged in half-agreement. He was right, this was a difficult place and the people here had every reason to be bitter and cruel-hearted and selfish. Not a soul left on this wasted Earth would begrudge them that. But Nicky didn’t see it that way. Everyone here was in the same boat, more or less. They fought each other in the ring and they had their own personal disputes, but Nicky didn’t see these people as his competitors. They were neighbours. Friends. Some of them were even family. NIcky cherished Booker’s sons as if they were his own. Nile was a sister to him, Andy and Quynh were sisters too. Nicky had made a little family here and it brought him peace during difficult times. He liked to think that he brought them peace when they needed it, too. 

“I am happy to do it. Especially since we’re living so close and the doors here are not very secure.” Nicky joked bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Joe laughed, tipping his mug in agreement. 

“It’s more secure than the last place I was at, and I have a bed, which is very nice. Luxury.” he grinned, his tone indicating his sarcasm. Nicky chuckled in agreement but couldn’t take his eyes off of the newcomer.

“I’m glad you’re in this palace with all of us, then.” Nicky replied easily, smirking. Nile had been right about the tattoos. Joe could see them on his arms and neck, he was curious about them but he didn’t want to press. Joe’s laugh was the thing to take him out of his own head again. He had a beautiful laugh, but the bags under his eyes forced Nicky to come back to reality for a moment. 

“I will let you get some rest. Hopefully you can sleep before training.” Nicky remarked. “I drink coffee before naps. When I wake, the coffee is beginning to kick in and then I feel...better. More aware.” He rambled slightly. For somebody who had been known to knock out a person twice his size in combat, Nicky could be shockingly shaky. Joe didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

“I will try that, thank you, Nicolo. Nicky. And I’ll see you soon.” Joe replied. He raised his mug to Nicky in thanks and then closed the door. Nicky smiled faintly to himself and turned to walk down the hall in the direction of Booker’s room. 

\-----------------------

As much as Nicky desperately needed the coffee, Booker would appreciate it more. Besides, after a fight like the one last night, Nicky wanted to make the first move to show his friend that he was alright and that he didn’t take it personally. Sometimes a reassurance was nice. Nicky had a few bruises on his face and his stitches from the night before had swollen a little bit, but were going down with the painkillers he’d taken that morning. HIs appearance wouldn’t frighten the kids too much, if they weren’t already in school. 

Nicky knocked on the door before he opened it up, letting himself in. The apartment was small, only a little bigger than his own and it held four people. There were two beds, one that Booker shared with his youngest son and another that the two older boys used. Sebastien was currently putting the sheets on one of the beds, a toddler hanging off of him and chattering away. When the little boy saw Nicky, his face lit up. Bright green eyes shone as the little boy tumbled to the floor and ran over. 

“Uncuh Nicky!” The boy exclaimed in the way small children often mispronounced words. Nicky bent down and scooped him up with one arm, smiling fondly. 

“Why hello there, Etienne. Why aren’t you in school?” Nicky asked, knowing full well that the little boy was still too young for school. The child giggled as he reached up to play with Nicky’s hair. 

“You know! I’m too p’tit Uncah!” Came the toddler’s exclamation, half in French and half in English as he informed Nicky that he was too small for school. Nicky made an exaggerated noise of understanding as Etienne reached for the mug of hot coffee. Nicky held it farther away so the boy didn’t burn himself in his exploration .Etienne settled on fiddling with the zipper on his jacket pocket. 

“You brought me coffee?” Booker asked as he stood up from the now-made bed. Apparently he’d been up for a while if he’d had time to strip and re-make all the beds as well as get the two older kids out the door to attend the school they had on the compound. Nicky passed the single father the mug. 

“A peace offering.” He teased. A smile hinted at Booker’s lips as the man took the mug. 

“How are you doing?” He asked, eyeing Nicky’s bruised jaw with uncertainty. 

“I’m fine. Really. You held back enough, I only have a small headache. Just some bruising, a few cuts. I’ll be just fine in a few days.” Nicolo reassured, clasping his friend on the arm fondly. “And you? Are you okay?” 

Booker hesitated. He nodded, motioning to his ribs. 

“Just a bit sore. Nothing broken.” He promised. Nicky raised an eyebrow. The hesitation was concerning and he immediately worried that he’d hurt Booker more than he thought and the other man just wasn’t telling him because he was worried of upsetting him. It wouldn’t be the first time any of them had pulled that move. But the way Booker held himself led Nicky to believe it wasn’t strictly related to the fight. Sensing his concern, Sebastien sighed and took a seat on the couch which had been shoved up against a wall to make room for the second bed. 

“I just had a...bit of a long meeting with Kozak last night.” He sighed. “Apparently the donors are getting bored of the fights. They’re going to start spicing things up a bit and she told me I need to impress or else.” He sighed. Nicky’s shoulders fell. Apparently the rumours were true, then. Other stadiums had already started doing it. The demand for excitement and bloodshed was strong. FIghts would never be out of style, but people had started chattering about possible additions to make them more exciting. Wild animals, weapons, traps, whatever donors wanted. That didn’t bode well for any of them. Nicky held Etienne a little closer. 

“Did she say what she was going to do?” Nicky asked, taking a seat next to the man he considered his brother. Booker shook his head in response, sighing and drinking from the mug again. 

“Might not even happen.” He replied with a shrug. “I think they’re afraid of us all. They’re worried about uprisings, like what happened in Madrid.” He added in a hushed voice. His gaze fell to the cabinet where he housed his booze, then came back to the couch. Etienne was dozing against Nicky’s shoulder, the little boy’s fists curled around the jacket zipper he’d been so fascinated by. 

“If it does-”

“If it does then we deal with it.” Booker interrupted, not wanting to get into the inevitability of the carnage if the bastards who ran this place and profited off their fighting decided to add animals into the mix. Nicky nodded quietly, taking the hint not to get into it right now. 

“We deal with it. Like always.” He agreed. Nicky kissed the top of Etienne’s head and gently shifted him, handing him back to his father. “I’ll see you in a bit for training.” Nicky said, patting Booker on the shoulder. “And you, Monsieur Etienne, be very good for your father and I’ll see you later too.” He added, ruffling the toddler’s hair. The boy had woken up when he was passed over and was quietly humming to himself, though he stopped when Nicky said his name and beamed up at him. 

Nicky waved goodbye to the child and Etienne waved back. Booker waved too, mostly just to make his boy laugh.


	4. Elephant in the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, I basically just write as I get ideas and I didn't have any good ones lately. Plus I'm in law school so there's my out.

Nicky dodged a right hook and parried with one of his own, bringing a knee up to catch his opponent’s hip, hoping to throw them off balance and be able to take the upper hand. The move worked but his opponent felt the way her balance was shifting and adjusted to roll. Nicky tried to take advantage of the brief moment where she was vulnerable, but Andromache was always at least three steps ahead of her opponent at all times. She easily took Nicky out with a sweep of her legs and had him pinned. He had no choice but to tap out. 

He could practically hear Andy’s shit-eating grin as she hopped off of him and held a hand out. He took it and clapped her on the back as he stood, stretching out his side. 

“Payback for beating me in our run.” Andy teased. Nicky had to laugh. He’d beaten Andy to the 10 mile mark by mere seconds and had been so out of breath after that it had taken him nearly 15 minutes to properly get up and rub it in. “So, newcomer moved in across the hall from you, huh?” She asked, nodding her head over to where Yusuf was lifting weights. 

“News travels fast, as always.” Nicky remarked. “Yeah. He got in this morning, Nile showed him around. He seems nice.” He shrugged, tearing his gaze back to Andy. She had a knowing smirk on her face. And Nicky rolled his eyes, shoving her playfully. 

They squared up again for the next fight. Nicky knew it was a losing battle, Andy had been here much longer than him. She was the top fighter in their league. She’d been here nearly 15 years already. Rumour had it that she’d bought out the contract of somebody else so that she could stay. Most assumed it was bloodlust or sadism or simply nowhere else to go, but Nicky knew better. The answer was simple. Quynh would be here another five years and Andy wouldn’t leave her. 

The two often fought in matches against each other. They were evenly matched. Quynh’s strengths were Andy’s weaknesses and vice versa. They learned from each other. They had been the ones to take Nicky under their wing upon his arrival here, they’d done the same with Booker two years ago and with Nile last year. 

Nicky laughed breathlessly as he barely missed Andy’s leg hitting him in the jaw. He saw Quynh approaching them from behind, silent. She had a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she stayed behind Andy. Then, just as the woman was cooling back to toss another punch, she pounced. 

“Quick, get her legs!” Quynh exclaimed. Andy laughed as her partner had her arms locked behind her in a second. She tried to toss Quynh over her head but Nicky rushed over and tackled them both before she could move. Andy laughed and tapped out. 

“It’s lunch time, Andromache.” Quynh teased in a sing-song voice, kissing her wife’s forehead. “Leave poor Nicky alone. He went through enough of a beating last night.” She turned to him next. “Good fight by the way. You need to work on your stamina and your blocking and your shoulder work but...nicely done.” She praised, a rare but sincere compliment which Nicky gratefully accepted. 

The trio walked over to the apartment block and Nicky spotted Joe on the way as they passed the weights. Joe saw him and smiled faintly, setting his weight down and walking over to them. Nicky paused to wait for him. 

“How are you settling in?” He asked, trying not to get too distracted by the way Joe looked covered in sweat and fresh from lifting (very heavy) weights. Once he realized how tired Joe looked, it was easier to put aside his crush and focus on helping his new neighbour. 

“Good, I have…” Joe paused and looked at the clock on the wall. “Two more hours of training until I’m allowed to get some sleep. But I’m starving. Can I join you for lunch?” He asked. 

“Of course, yes. Please.” Nicky replied immediately, perhaps a little too eager. Joe didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“It does not seem as bad here as I feared it would be.” Joe admitted as they walked towards the canteen. “I’d heard stories about the fights in this sector and was concerned. And when Merrick bought my contract I knew nothing about this place. So I am glad that I seem to already have found friends.” He mused. Nicky tried and failed to place his accent. 

Nicky was intensely curious about where Yusuf had been before here but he didn’t ask. He normally wouldn’t ask something so personal. The reason somebody came to be contracted was a matter of somebody’s past. Perhaps they’d committed a crime, perhaps they’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, perhaps they were plucked off the street. It would be up to Joe to tell him. Nicky was still curious though. He hadn’t seen anybody with the tattoos Joe had on his hands and arms. They seemed a little lighter now than they had yesterday, but he didn’t think much of it. A trick of the early-afternoon sunlight, perhaps. 

A half hour later found everyone huddled in Booker’s apartment. The kids were home from school for lunch. Nile and Booker were sitting on the floor with the kids as they built a fort with the pillows. Andy and Quynh were on one bed and Joe was on the couch, Nicky beside him, awkwardly keeping enough distance to respect the newcomer’s personal space. They ate a quick soup that Nicky had been able to heat up from the rations they’d been given. Conversation was light as they all finished, the kids were running around playing pretend, everybody seemed fairly at ease until Joe began to speak. 

“This was very kind of you to welcome me into your home, Sebastien, and for all of you to provide me with company. But I’m afraid I cannot offer anything in return and I won’t be here long enough to pay you back for any of this.” Joe began, his tone hiding something secret, yet his apparent apathy to that fact was slightly alarming. “I have a plan to esc-” 

“No.” Booker interrupted, standing up, a quiet fury evident in his tone though he didn’t raise his voice, likely hoping not to scare the children. “We do not talk about that here.” He snapped, raising an accusatory finger. “Get out.” He paused, and when Joe’s shock made him stay in his seat for a second longer than necessary, Booker shouted. “Get out!” 

Joe got up and apologized, though the concern was evident on his face. He nodded to Booker, set his bowl down, thanked him once more for the hospitality, and briskly left the room. 

The outburst had been brief, so short that Andy, who had been distracted by the last bite of soup, had nearly missed it. The weight of the moment settled over the whole room anyways. Nicky stood up, gently squeezing Booker’s shoulder. 

“I’ll talk to him. Make sure he’s not...you know.” He sighed, an apparent and obvious worry going unsaid. The fear of rebellion amongst the entertainers was growing within management. The Madrid riots were on everyone’s minds and word was spreading that management would send their own people to masquerade as plants to pick out potentially riotous entertainers. The punishment for disobedience or for instigation of riots was severe. 

A sense of unease settled within the room. Even the children quieted down. If Joe was a plant, Booker had done the right thing by shutting down the talk quickly. Even still, Nicky doubted he was. He had a good sense for those sorts of things. Andy told him to be careful as Nicolo left the room to chase down the newcomer, praying he was right.


	5. Training

Nicolo caught up to Yusuf in the courtyard. He jogged behind him, slowing to a stop as Yusuf picked up a protective glove and began practicing on one of the dummies. He hit the straw man with practiced ease but his actions betrayed fury and emotion. He whacked the dummy a bit too hard, grunted louder than necessary when he lunged and unleashed a flurry of hits to the mannequin’s side. 

“Joe.” Nicolo interrupted. “About the..”

“-Don’t.” Came his curt response. “I know. I screwed up. I thought I could trust you all but I realize I’d be putting you in danger. I don’t know why I opened my mouth.” He snapped, not unkindly. Nicky could tell his frustration was directed inwards. 

“It’s not like that.” Nicky promised, stepping aside as Joe planted a strong kick to the dummy’s head. “The person who had your room before you was...made an example of. We must be careful.” He added, this time in a much quieter voice. They were always being watched. The possibility that Yusuf was a plant was still on Nicky’s mind. “We just need to survive. That’s all.” He added, even if it wasn’t entirely true. 

Joe huffed in response and stood back from the mannequin, then turned to face Nicky. 

“Then you better keep training, if all you mean to do here is survive.” He replied pointedly. He took off the glove that protected his hand against the straw and wood of the practice dummy. Joe stepped into the nearby ring and beckoned for Nicky to join him. 

Nicolo did just that. He was curious to see Joe’s fighting style. It seemed both men were aware that the way another fought betrayed their true self more than words could. It was hard to pretend to be another when you fought. Their attention was entirely focused on each other as they circled.

Joe made the first move. A quick blow, easy for Nicky to parry, an attempt to learn about his opponent and the way he moved. Nicky followed with a kick to the side, distracting Joe from the punch he threw immediately after. It didn’t work and Joe caught his leg, forcing Nicky to tackle him and send them both to the ground. They grappled, neither able to hold the upper hand for longer than a moment. Nicky struggled just as much to place the style Joe used. Every time he thought he’d pinned it down, Joe did something else that evaded his understanding.

Soon, Joe found his footing and moved out of the way. He threw a series of well-placed punches which Nicky was able to avoid, mostly. He had no choice but to take a few though. They were solid, meaningful. Nicky retaliated but Joe leapt out of the way with a grace that didn’t match his sturdy frame. He followed with a kick and a move that Nicky had never seen before. 

Nicolo’s eyes widened as he realized the fighting style. It was from the wastelands. An area of mainland Europe that had been totally decimated by the fires and scorching heat of a climate disaster, the wastelands were just what they advertised to be. Few people were able to survive there but a few small communities had formed. They were primarily nomadic, moving from place to place, trading with whoever they met and organizing passage for others. It was generally understood that without their company, you didn’t survive the wastelands.

Little was known about the nomadic groups roaming the wastelands. They were strong and resourceful, they kept mostly to themselves, and no criminal empire from the new world had ever managed to get a foothold in the territory. What was more surprising was that to Nicky’s knowledge, no member of the wasteland communities had ever left. The only reason Nicky recognized the fighting style was because he’d spent a month traveling with them while he’d been with his ex-fiancé. 

Joe took Nicky’s shock in stride and used it to his advantage. He threw a punch which Nicolo barely dodged. His recovery was swift and he backed up, hands in front of his face as he squared off again. 

“You’re from the wastelands.” He panted. 

“And?” Joe replied flatly, dodging Nicky’s elbow and darting to the side. The pair were locked in a dance, each movement fluid and somehow perfectly in sync with the other. Despite the flatness in Joe’s tone, his eyes betrayed an interested sparkle as they kept up their fight. 

“Nobody leaves the wastelands.” Nicky pointed out, to which Joe laughed humourlessly. 

“You’ve been stuck here a while, huh?” He retorted, jabbing Nicky’s side and spinning to elbow him in the face and escape his grasp. 

Nicky didn’t know what to say. Were things that different now? He stepped back to dodge Joe’s kick and used the momentum to throw another punch. Joe caught his hand and held onto his wrist, then tried to grab Nicky with the other hand. Nicky used his free hand to take Joe’s fist, and they were at a stalemate. They were both panting, their chests heaving as they locked eyes and held tightly to each other’s wrist. 

“You’re not bad.” Joe teased, grinning and stepping back as he agreed to end the fight in a tie. Nicky let his hands drop and he nodded in deference to opponent. 

“You are very skilled.” He replied. “But I don’t understand. Has so much happened in the past year that the nomads now leave?” 

Joe sighed and looked up to the sky.

“A lot has happened, Nicolo.” He admitted. “It’s not a story for right now though. I’m too tired and you’re bleeding.” He pointed out. 

Nicky hadn’t even noticed. He raised a hand to his cheek and sure enough, he’d been scratched and a few drops of blood seeped out of the minor injury, re-opened from the night before. It was a common occurrence so he just wiped it off. 

“I’m alright.” He replied, though Joe didn’t seem overly concerned. He was already headed towards the fountain. Nicky followed, since it was on the way back to their lodgings. “Another time. I always like to hear stories of the outside world.” He requested. Joe simply nodded and kept drinking. 

Nicky didn’t take the newcomer’s brusqueness personally. He was clearly still exhausted, though nobody watching their fight would have known. When Joe stood up, he gently clasped Nicky on the shoulder and squeezed twice, a friendly gesture from the nomadic wasteland communities which Nicky recognized from his time there. He hoped he remembered to properly return the gesture with a nod of the head and pat to the arm. Hopefully manners hadn’t changed too much. Given the impressed and pleased nod Joe gave him, it seemed he’d remembered correctly.

“It was good training today. Tell your friends I’m sorry and that you won’t hear any other words from me that could get anyone in trouble. I’m simply tired.” Yusuf said, dropping his hand to the side. “I’ll see you later, Nicolo.” He added, and then walked off to finish training. Nicky watched him go and, not for the first time, was left wondering what had changed in the five, nearly six, years he’d been here.


	6. Concussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long break, school has been crazy. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Two weeks passed without incident. Yusuf became a regular fixture of their lives. They trained together, ate together, spent their limited free time together. Even Booker’s children had quickly come to love spending time with Joe. Booker was suspicious for longer but since Yusuf mentioned nothing more about possible rebellion and since nothing bad had happened, he warmed up soon enough. 

The turning point had been two days after the outburst at lunch. Jean-Pierre, home from school, had asked Yusuf what the drawings were on his arms and why they were a different colour than the day before. With endless patience, Joe had explained that they were temporary designs made with a paste called Henna. They were traditional and from his home, but they faded after a little while. The kids were enthralled and after a bit of asking around, Yusuf managed to procure the ingredients he needed to make henna paste. 

The newcomer became a permanent fixture in their lives and Nicky was very pleased. He liked Joe. They shared coffee together every morning and within two weeks, they came to be inseparable. Sometimes they’d walk Booker’s kids to the school together. They’d go on runs together, they ate every meal together and sparred constantly. They weren’t allowed to go to each other’s matches but when they returned, whether in good or bad shape, the other was always there with ice and something to drink. 

Tonight was different, though. Nicky was late. His match had lasted longer than it was supposed to. He was fighting somebody he’d never met before who had come from outside the compound to fight. Nicky won, but only by a hair. And after, he’d been tossed into another fight on the whim of his manager. Keane was feeling particularly cruel that night, apparently, and had even bet against him. 

He’d been knocked out in a mere ten minutes, though that was still an impressively long time considering the state he’d been in when he stumbled into the arena. Nicolo had to be peeled off the floor and spent most of the drive home lapsing between consciousness and unconsciousness on the floor of the van. 

He didn’t remember how he got out of the van, but he remembered Keane dragging him by the collar of the shirt across the floor. He blacked out and when he was awake, Andy was at his side. Hands were on his head, brushing through his hair and comforting him. There was somebody poking at his aching ribs and trying to move his wrist, which he had curled close to his chest. Andy was talking to him, telling him to stay awake. But her voice didn’t match her hands. Nicky groaned and opened his eyes and was surprised to see a pair of beautiful brown eyes, deep and soulful and concerned. 

“Yusuf?” Nicky mumbled, blinking hard. The handsome man smiled, nodding. 

“It’s me. Just hold still and you’ll be okay, Nico. Andy’s got a doctor here.” He promised. Nicky only heard a few words but he understood the word doctor. If there was a doctor then he knew it must be bad. There was only one doctor on the compound and she could only see the people who really needed it. Nicky wondered if he really was that bad, but then a sharp pain stabbed into his chest and the edges of his vision blurred. Nicolo gasped, eyes wide with pain, and immediately his stomach contracted. The waves ran over him and all Nicky could do was try to ride them. As fervently as he wished to stay awake, he simply couldn’t. As he drifted to unconsciousness again, Yusuf’s worried eyes were the last thing he saw. 

When he next woke, he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He had faint memories of being woken periodically before then but he wasn’t sure if that had actually happened. He felt foggy and floaty. He was faintly aware of a soft pressure on his arm and behind his back, of a hand in his hair. There was a conversation going on around him but he couldn’t hold onto the words. What he did immediately notice was Yusuf’s voice. He heard the deep tone, smooth and sweet as honey. Nicky shifted faintly and winced as his chest ached in protest. That woke him up properly, at least, and he opened his eyes slowly to look around. 

“Quynh, he’s awake.” Yusuf's voice came from behind him and Nicky craned his head to locate him. He realized he was lying on his bed with Joe sitting behind him, legs bracketing Nicky’s body. His head was resting on the man’s broad shoulders and it was Joe’s strong arms that were keeping him upright and comfortably positioned, lounging against him. Before Nicky had the chance to ask why he was being cuddled by his neighbour, Quynh was at his side with water. 

“How many fingers can you see?” She asked, holding up three fingers. Nicky blinked and said the correct amount, then took the water with a tired hand. She nodded and asked him a few other questions, checked to make sure his eyes tracked her finger properly when it moved, and took his pulse. “Good. Don’t move, and don’t try to move that arm yet either.” She said strictly, nodding to Nicky’s right arm. Immediately, he tried to move it and of course, regretted it instantly. Quynh rolled her eyes fondly as he groaned and Nicky didn’t try again. It was held in a tight sling and Joe’s knee was keeping it supported so that the sling didn’t pull against Nicky’s shoulder. It couldn’t have been a very comfortable position. 

“What happened?” Nicky managed. He could barely remember the night before. The last thing he remembered clearly was Keane telling him he needed to do a second fight. He could practically feel the anger emanating from Joe. 

“You were almost killed.” He replied. It might have been Nicky’s imagination but he swore he could feel Yusuf’s hand tightening on his stomach. Nicky frowned and looked over at Quynh, since he couldn’t see Joe’s face. 

“Keane put you in a fight you shouldn’t have been in and didn’t pull you out of the ring until after you were on the ground.” She agreed. “You have a concussion and you’re supposed to stay out of training for a few days. Your shoulder was thrown out and you have a few broken ribs too.” She listed off, coming to sit on the side of the bed. “The doctor said you needed to keep your head and chest elevated and in the same position all night so Yusuf decided the only way to do that was to hold you like this. Pillows simply wouldn’t do.” She said knowingly, winking at Nicky. 

“The pillows could have moved.” Joe huffed in defense of himself. Quynh simply nodded and patted Nicky’s knee. “They could have.” He murmured to himself. Neither man tried to move.


	7. Nausea

In the week after Nicky’s concussion, he wasn’t alone for more than a minute. When Andy or Quynh was fighting, Nile would come spend time with Nicky and keep him company. Booker would come and go, his kids would bring little crafts to display on the wall beside Nicky’s bed or hang in his window. And as for Joe, unless he was required to be somewhere else, he was at Nicky’s side. 

Nicky spent much of the first few days sleeping. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was groggily trying to force himself to be a person again. He’d shower and try to stomach whatever small bits of food were around. He’d make tea and try to do a few pushups if he could manage it, but he got dizzy and nauseous easily. 

By the end of the week, Nicky felt better. The doctor had been checking up on him throughout the week and was of the opinion that he was doing better, and apparently Keane had gotten wind of it. 

A knock came at the door while Nicky was trying to keep some soup down. He looked up, frowning faintly. He moved to get it but Joe put a hand on his shoulder and kept him down, then stood up and went to the door. Before he could get there, the door opened and a large man stepped inside. There was a large knife tucked into his belt.

“Keane asked for you.” He stated, staring at Nicky. 

“He can’t go anywhere, he can barely walk. Keane can come here if he needs to talk to Nicolo.” Joe retorted, slightly exaggerating in the hopes of keeping Nicky safe. His arms crossed as he stood firmly between Nicky and the hired muscle. The man ignored Joe and took a step closer, which Joe intercepted.

“It’s okay, Joe. I’ll go.” Nicky interrupted, slightly panicked as he saw the stranger’s hand move towards the knife in his belt. He missed how Joe’s eyes darted to the knife. Instead of trying to reach for it, Joe sighed and stepped aside, moving to help Nicky up. He didn’t need the help as much now that he was feeling a bit better, but he took it anyway. Joe moved to help Nicky out of the room, but the large man put a firm hand on his chest and moved him away from Nicky. 

“Just him.” He warned. Joe made eye contact with his friend and Nicky managed a small smile before he was marched off. 

\-----------------------------------------

“There you are, Nicolo.” Keane spoke as Nicky was marched into the immaculate, silver office space. Everything cost more money than he’d ever see again, the decor reminded him of the lavish offices his ex-fiance had spent so much time in. It would have intimidated him had his head not been pounding. Moving so much was aggravating his injuries, not that the man shuffling him along seemed to care. Nicky was pushed into a hard metal chair. He winced as his sore body hit the unforgiving surface. Keane came to stand in front of him and leaned against the front of the desk, one leg crossed over the other as he toyed with the lapel of his (no doubt very expensive) suit. 

“You’ve lost four out of your last fifteen matches, Nicolo.” He hummed, emphasizing each syllable of Nicky’s name. “You still have nine years with me but I’m starting to think I got the short end of the stick on this deal. And that is not a position I like to be in with my contracts. Would you like to be in a losing position on a bad deal, Nicolo?” He asked, raising his head to look Nicky in the eyes for the first time. 

A chill ran down the fighter’s spine as he met Keane’s eyes. He didn’t like where this was going. The man, apparently waiting for an answer, stepped forward and slapped him across the face hard, making his vision go black for a moment. The pounding in his head got so bad Nicky could hardly feel it for a moment, then it exploded behind his eyes. He groaned, mouth open as he panted through the pain. 

“You win your next fight or I find other uses for you. I own you for nine more years. I can make you miserable or I could keep ignoring you like I’ve been doing. If my current approach is not working, then you’ll be seeing me much more. Trust me, Nicky, neither of us want that.” He sneered Nicolo’s nickname and grabbed his chin, forcing the man to meet his eyes. Keane’s ring had left a cut on his cheek and the imprint of a hand was still visible. Nicky met Keane’s gaze with fire in his eyes. 

“You’re scheduled to fight in four days. Be ready. Win. Or you come right back here and you don’t like what happens next. With that posse of yours it gives me a chance to get creative.” 

The threat was clear. Nicky was too dizzy to argue or be anything other than furious, and nauseous. His anger compelled him to stop fighting the nausea and he leaned over the side of the chair, vomiting on the floor. 

Keane didn’t like that, but Nicky was too out of it to do anything that would give him any sort of satisfaction. He scowled and snapped his fingers. Half a second later, the large man came in and dragged Nicky out of the room, shouting at somebody else to clean the mess up.


End file.
